Succulents
by Soul Jelly
Summary: In which Ulrich discovers he quite likes a particular type of plant. (Fluff, fluff, fluff. YxU. Oneshot.)


**Succulents**

 _/_

"Hats! So many hats! And–" Odd's voices reaches a pitch Ulrich didn't think was possible "- Oh my god, ties!"

Before Ulrich can so much as blink, Odd shrugs past him and is soon elbow-deep in a box full of ludicrous neckwear ("What do you think, should I buy one for every day of the week?" he asks, grinning, brandishing a thick stripe of yellow silk patterned with goldfish) and Jeremie is already long gone, surveying a pile of old video games and comics with anguished indecision.

The static of the Kadic student body brushes past Ulrich; soon the crowd sweeps him away.

It is known by faculty and students alike as the Kadic fête, but in reality is no more glamorous than a sea of tables set out across the school grounds. A yearly tradition where students are encouraged to spring clean their rooms and sell, barter and trade goods which could be better loved by someone else.

Ulrich finds himself walking aimlessly, wincing now and then as a table edge digs sharply into his hips. He's getting grumpy, can feel that sensation again where the colour starts to drain out of the world, more familiar and frequent now than he'd care to admit.

He's sure even Odd's ties would look duller now than when he'd seen them a moment ago.

There's a headache forming somewhere in his skull that he can't pinpoint, and he feels irrationally annoyed and embarrassed on behalf of the smiling students trying to push their shabby second hand wares, and the giddy delight of those actually wanting to buy them. Ulrich slinks moodily past towers of books, miscellaneous CDs, candleholders shaped like pigs. He's just thinking about heading back to his dorm and lying down, when a surprised sound escapes him at the sharp, unexpected touch of something green in his peripheral vision.

Ulrich looks down at the source of the pain, raises an eyebrow.

The small round table at his side is crammed with them, an assortment of odd-shaped jars filled with squat, colourful plants. Fake, he thinks dismissively, seeing the leaves, which look like rubber and hold none of the wispy fragility he's seen in plants before. _And yet…_

For a moment Ulrich forgets himself. Drawn by a sudden urge to know their texture, his hand reaches towards the nearest one, mindful of the spines that first forced his attention; he runs a finger around a leaf, round and pale teal like an alien moon.

"You like them?" someone asks.

It's a second before Ulrich realises she's talking to him.

"Yeah, I guess, they're pretty cool." Hesitating only a second, he adds, "Are they real?"

The girl behind the table laughs, not unkindly, twin brown pigtails nodding as she does so. "They don't look it, do they?"

Ulrich just stares at the thickly stacked leaves, ovals of pale transluence in green and purple and blue. Others with rounded pink edges, lush like jelly sweets, or else covered in spiny fronds that strain for the sky. They could be part of the scenery on _Galaxy Explorers 3_ , or a collectible in _Lab of Horrors_ , otherworldly little things that glisten in the dark.

The girl is a younger student Ulrich hasn't seen before. She continues to chatter away, explanations of how she's getting a roommate next term and she won't have enough space, but she's kept her favourite ones, of course, and just wants the rest to go to a good home.

Ulrich deliberates carefully over his choices. Picks up jars and puts them down again, turns pots over in his hands.

Despite the prickles, they're cool, and kind of cute.

He picks a stout green one and an icy blue one, in the end, liking how the blue one has petals like a rose.

"They're pretty easy to take care of," the girl says. She scribbles instructions on a sheet of paper and hands it to him; in return he hands her two Euros, followed in a fit of bashful generosity by the rest of his change. It's little more than a few extra cents really, but the absence of it in his pocket makes Ulrich feel lighter.

 _/_

"Succulents," Jeremie says later on, when the three meet up again. "Good choice. They don't need much care at all."

Odd makes some quip about Ulrich finally learning parental responsibility, and whether he can have godfather rights. Given he's wearing four neckties at once, a purple leather jacket and a baseball cap emblazoned with Japanese characters, Ulrich opts to ignore him. Jeremie buckles slightly under the weight of books and video games peeking out from his bulging backpack.

Ulrich is still glum, slouching under the weight of that shadow he doesn't have words for just yet and the promise of pointlessness threatening to suck the energy from the rest of his day. But the plants – succulents - still make him smile.

One will live a long and fruitful life on Ulrich's desk, until Kiwi learns how to jump that high.

The other will find its way to Yumi's doorstep, a ribbon tied around the pot, the doorbell rung and Ulrich long gone before she can answer.


End file.
